


secrets of the hopelessly in love

by schlimmbesserung



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schlimmbesserung/pseuds/schlimmbesserung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pity is the worst</p>
            </blockquote>





	secrets of the hopelessly in love

**Author's Note:**

> this was pretty well received on tumblr, so even though i don't typically post drabbles or ficlets to ao3, i figured i would just this once. if only to put a dent in my inactivity

Pity is the worst.

It’s this slimy creature that’s nested in the bottom of your gut; a living entity with its own volition. Heavy and painful. It balls itself into knots when he looks at you, coils and unfurls when he whispers your name. And when he's like this-- when he's like this it tendrils out, tangles itself all around your bloodpusher, and tightens until you can barely even see through the ache.

“Pale as motherfuckin’ milk,” he murmurs with a whimsical smile, head in your lap (and it twists and thrashes).

You card your hands through his ratty curls, shush him.

“Ain't nothin' but a fool what’s all been bent and broken into pieces,” he chuckles, hard and hollow and bleeding into a groan. His fingers scrabble for purchase on the stone floor of the corridor, his back arching obscenely, like a creature possessed. “GOT ALL THESE MOTHERFUCKIN’ _HOLES_ UP IN MY MOTHERFUCKIN’ THINKPAN.”

“Shut up, nook stain,” you say, biting back the tremor creeping into your voice.

“And you,” he chokes, _grins_. “Sit here like a motherfuckin’ miracle, THE _LAST_ MOTHERFUCKIN’ MIRACLE ON THIS SHITTY FOR _SAKEN_ ROCK--" His words gurgle out as convulsions roll through his body.

Pity is guilt. A sense of helpless urgency pressing on your lungs. "Quiet. You're making it worse."

He sucks in a frantic breath between gritted teeth, muscles twitching and jerking. "-- and you-- _hnngh_ \-- you staple them pieces all right back together. WIPE THE MOTHERFUCKIN’ _BLOOD_ FROM THESE ROTTEN _WALLS_."

You shoosh him again, for the umpteenth time, and press your lips to his cheek, slick with lilac tears. Your heart throbs grossly and you know you would just cut it from your fucking chest and spoonfeed it to him, if only it could soothe the hurt.

He spasms again, moans, reaches blindly. You catch his trembling fingers in yours and he _squeezes_. “Don’t-- Don’t leave me bro.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss. “For even saying that ridiculous bullshit.”

Pity is an understanding so intimate that it's overwhelming, fills you to the point of bursting.

“I _need_ you,” he whimpers, eyes rolling in his sockets. You jab him roughly and his gaze pulls back in, refocuses. “Motherfuckin’ need-- you like air to breathe. Need you like MOTHERFUCKIN’ _SOPOR_ IN MY VEINS.”

“I _know_ ,” you growl, snaking your arms around him. He clings to you like a wriggler, shakes and shivers while you sway gently, hum and hush. You can't do anything more. “I know.”

Pity is suffering in tandem. A parasite latched in your digestive sac, gnawing at your insides.

“Pale as the motherfuckin’ stars in the sky,” he breathes, and the words are all that he is. “Shining white as anything you ever seen at. Only light what’s left in these dark motherfuckin’ days."


End file.
